omnia aut nihil
by midnightweeds
Summary: "Or we could have the world," he suggested, looking away from the fire and directly at her - for as many times as their eyes had met, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so clearly before.
1. prologue

**Disclaimer -** I am not JK Rowling.  
 **A/N -** I got really drunk one night and remembered that I wanted to write this. It's a really long drabble broken into a few parts. Enjoy casually.  
 **Trigger Warnings -** Blood play, Sex, Mention of Non-Con

* * *

 ** _Prologue_**

She gripped his hand without a thought, lifting it toward her face to get a better look at the ring in the darkened corner of the Department of Mysteries.

Her eyes were inquisitive when she met his, but she said nothing. She didn't have to. Her thumb brushed the stone quickly. Slowly. Pressed into it firmly. Her eyes closed for the briefest of moments; her mouth fell open with a quiver of her lips, and, as though she realized what she'd done, she licked them slowly.

They were dark red today, and she had mascara on her lashes.

He leaned closer to her, breath fanning over her face and nose brushing her forehead. They stood like that for some time, her thumb brushing repeatedly over the stone.

"What if I want more?"

Her eyes opened slowly, darkened by desire.

He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, watching her chest lift and fall beneath her shirt –it was a strange, light material he was sure was Muggle-made, and her bra was made of lace beneath it, covering her only where is should. It was strange. It was odd. She was unlike the well-to-do witches of Hogwarts, and too far from the Muggle girls of the orphanage.

For a second time, he was noticing her. More than he should or wanted to. He resisted saying anything. He shouldn't have been in her department, anyway. She'd asked him not to come around anymore.

Her eyes met his in a way that told him she knew too much, anyway.

"We could come to an agreement, I'm sure."

She looked back at his ring. Her thumb brushed the stone again, repeating the same actions as earlier. She was trembling. She sighed; and he _resisted_.

He grinned. She didn't notice.

* * *

 _omnia aut nihil should mean "all or nothing" but i gave up on latin ages ago, so..._


	2. i-ii

**I.**

Hermione was sitting alone in a Hogwarts Express cabin when Tom found her for the first time.

He'd pressed the door back as though he knew she was there, barely looking at her as he stalked in and sat down, drawing his ankle over his knee. The pair simply stared at each other, seconds turning into minutes before she finally narrowed her gaze and hissed, "What?"

He shook his head. She went back to her book.

"Professor Snape informed me that I would be Head Boy next year."

"Congratulations. I'm sure we'll all be better for it."

"He also mentioned that you would be Head Girl."

She looked up to see that he was curious, if only barely, about her response. She hadn't known for sure, but she knew that she was the obvious choice. "Isn't that a surprise," she raised an eyebrow before returning to her book.

He chuckled. She felt her spine tingle and glanced up to see that he was still staring. Pointedly. Curiously. The word greedily came to mind.

"It gets interesting around page 1039," he told her, voice low. There was no need for him to even look at the title.

"You mean darker."

He shrugged. "We both know why you're _here_ reading it, Granger, and not with your friends."

She hummed.

"It's okay, you know…to be curious. A great mind has to be."

He seemed thoughtful, and it threw her off. They were not friends. They weren't even acquaintances. Over the last six years, she couldn't think of a time that he'd even breathed in her direction. And yet…

She shook it off –whatever _it_ was. "Can I help you with something, Riddle? Because I'm here for some peace and quiet."

"I want to extended the white flag."

"Get out," she told him quickly. Tightly. Her spine burned this time, from bottom to top. Sparking against her skull. Encouraging her: _take it._

He chuckled. "I mean it."

He offered her a book.

It was white –pure, blinding white-with thin red lettering along the spine. When she didn't take it, he left it on the bench beside her. "I'll see you on the first, then."

She said nothing.

He smiled. His knee brushed hers as he got up.

"I hadn't noticed before. You're quite beautiful."

She cringed.

His scent lingered in the cabin when he left.

She turned to page 1039.

 **II.**

A month later, she met him in the Ministry library. It was an accident. Her mentor had let her go for the day and Hermione had chosen to stay in the library rather than return home. He seemed to be researching something, if the stack of heavy tomes floating behind him was anything to go by.

Both were dressed in black, inky robes at their shoulders. It was the required uniform for summer interns. His hair was in a state and, for once, hers was still in place. He laughed before she did.

"Isn't this a surprise," he murmured, eyes appraising.

She wasn't sure what he wanted from her. She wasn't sure why she was so comfortable with the idea of giving it to him, either.

They didn't even know each other. They hadn't even spent time together, really.

 _I hadn't noticed before_. She heard the words in her head, over and over, as she tried to say something. At length, she pulled the book she'd been reaching for from the shelf above her head and said, "I'm interning."

"As am I."

Neither said anything more about it, which made it too obvious that they were both in the Department of Mysteries. She was thankful that she hadn't run into him any sooner. _You're quite beautiful_.

She was blushing when she sat back down at the table. He sat down across from her. It took a long time for her to remember what she was even doing, flipping through pointless pages and taking spotty notes on nothing. The book he'd given her was tucked away safely in her bedroom pillow, but she felt it burning away in her mind…against her hands and on her tongue, even.

"Why did you give that to me?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. She managed to clamp down on her tongue before asking: _why would you want me like that?_

He didn't stop writing. She leaned over to see that he was studying chalices.

"I had to," he told her. It was such a simple answer that she nearly believed him. She even wanted to. "Did you finish it?"

"Yes. It was interesting."

He smiled, but didn't look up. "I heard about the Potters."

They'd been killed during a raid in Muggle London, where Grindelwald supporters were planning to attack King's Cross.

"Are you happy?"

He frowned, looking up at her for moment before going back to his work. "No. He's a sod and they're all arrogant fools, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Even if we are nearly out of school."

"Wish what, Riddle?"

He set his quill in his inkpot. "Nothing."

She let it go. "But, you're a Grindelwald supporter."

"Where did you get that idea?"

She frowned. He smirked.

"I support power and intelligence. Neither Dark nor Light leader posses both. They are both incomplete –not to mention incompetent. Makes you wonder."

"Does it?" She hadn't meant for her voice to be so light. Really, she wasn't interested in the conversation at all.

He licked his lips. "Doesn't it?"

She looked back at her work. "Why are you-"

"Don't ask. Read the book again. If you still don't know, keep reading it until you do. I don't want you to mention this again until you figure it out."

"That's rude."

He smiled. Dark and handsome and _I hadn't noticed before. You're quite beautiful._

She cursed under her breath.

* * *

A/N - I'll update this every day.


	3. iii

**A/N -** I feel the need to remind that this is a drabble. _Thanks for reading!_

* * *

 **III.**

"I told Dumbledore I was seeing you."

She'd noticed that he didn't bother with gelling his hair back in the summer, and as he looked up at her, he flicked his curls out of her eyes, a smirk on his lips. She realized that he was teasing her before he even opened his mouth.

"You told him about us?" He propped his elbow on the table and his jaw in his palm. "How did old man Albus take it?" He paused for a second, eyelids lowering and smirk softening, "His sweet little lioness-"

"Shut _up_ , Riddle," she told him, unable to stop the tremble she felt in her chest. She was sure he noticed her shaking, and tried not to feel embarrassed as she wondered how she'd gone six years without realizing how low his voice could get.

He chuckled, leaning back in her seat as he checked his watch. "Well? What _did_ he say?"

"He warned me against you, obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated, eyes narrowing darkly.

Hermione could tell he wanted to say more, but he didn't. She fiddled with the feathered end of her quill and quietly asked, "Should I be worried?"

She didn't have to look up to know that he was just staring. He watched her for so long that she swore she broke out in hives along her neck. When she couldn't take it anymore, she looked back up at him, nails across her collar.

"You know what I want from you, Hermione," he told her lowly. His eyes seemed to trap her.

Somehow, she managed not to jerk. She didn't even budge, actually. "What do I get out of this?"

His brows rose, as though he hadn't expected her to ask. He licked his lips. "Security," he shrugged. "Freedom."

She tried to laugh.

"But, should you decline," he said it as though he really didn't expect her to.

She hated him for it. He didn't know her. He shouldn't have even felt comfortable giving her that damned book.

"You have nothing to worry or fear, little witch. I promise."

.

.

.

They started meeting for lunch, not that either ate. They had black tea as they studied, mostly in silence. Sometimes, he'd bounce ideas off of her, as though he was testing her. Other times, she laid into him for dabbling in things he didn't understand –things he couldn't understand, regardless of how intelligent he believed himself, because he just wasn't old enough yet.

"Don't be stupid," she'd say, leaning toward him in an almost pleading fashion.

His eyes always flashed. Hungry and needy and pleased.

"You're too smart. You're worth too much."

"You think so," he'd ask, looking away from her briefly.

It was oddly endearing, but she sighed tiredly anyway. "Don't be anymore stupid than you've already been."

"I've done everything with great consideration."

She looked at his ring. He didn't hide it.

.

.

.

"Why are you researching cups?"

He blinked at her, as though he hadn't expected her to truly have been paying attention to him. "It's rude of you to ask."

"Uh-huh," she licked her lips. "I think it was rude of you to drop by my department during closed-shift hours last Friday, Riddle, but I've not complained or reported you."

He offered her a gentle smile- too soft and too perfect for Hermione to even buy it. "It's…confidential. For now."

"For now?" She hated her curiosity.

"Decide. Decide and I may be able to tell you."

His eyes were wide and inviting, just enough charm and desire and intrigue filling them to tempt her. And, she considered it. She really did. But went back to her work instead.

.

.

.

"Do you really have nothing to do today, Granger?"

As always, he did not look up from his work. His papers were in neat stacks on the table, his books set up smartly around him. Her side of the table was empty of everything but her elbows.

"Plenty, actually."

He hummed in acknowledgment. "Don't let me hold you back, love."

"Don't call me that."

"Noted."

Silence stretched on until he finally sighed and set his quill to rest in his stand. "I'll die if you stare any longer."

He was joking. He was _flirting_. She pursed her lips.

"I doubt that," she replied quickly. At his raised brow she said, "I want to know what you're up to, Riddle. And I want the truth."

His face, which had been previously lit with a humorous gaze, turned to stone. "Granger," he warned. It was the closest he'd ever gotten to suggesting that he was up to anything.

She knew, though. She'd known for a while.

She pulled a black journal from her bag and set it on the table. She watched him stare at it for a long time before he finally reached, fingers stroking the leather fondly.

His ring glinted.

She touched it.

"How long have you had this?"

"Long enough."

He met her gaze. Asked quietly, "Keep it safe for me?"

She knew better.

She put it back in her bag, anyway.

.

.

.

"Why do you think Grindelwald and Dumbledore can't overpower each other?" He asked, his tone suggested that it had nothing to do with anything.

She knew better. Looking up from her work, she put her pen down and narrowed her eyes in thought.

"They are supposed to be incredible. Supreme wizards. Yet, they can not best each other."

She considered his words. What he wanted from her. How willing she'd realized he was when it came to doing what was needed to get what he wanted. Licking her lips, she asked, "You're suggesting we do this so that we can't get in each other's way?"

He shrugged.

She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth before saying, "You're _sick_ , Riddle."

Her voice was barely a whisper, and his eyes were dark and empty as he watched her.

"I'm not going to fucking join my soul to yours- to share _life_ and _magic_ and not to mention the fact that we have to have _sex_ with each other," she cringed, her skin crawling. Something told her it wasn't disgust, and she ignored it.

"All to ignore each other? To just...be more? What is the point of being stronger and better if you can't share it?

"They're _nothing_ without each other, you've all but beat that idea into me since we started this summer. And now you're suggesting we do the same thing they did? Where is the _sense_?"

He was quiet. Watching her. Waiting. She had nothing more to say to him.

There was nothing more she could say, without throwing it all away.

"Please stop coming to my department. My mentor has noticed I disappear and I really can't keep coming up with excuses. I'm trying to build a reputation, to get a job here when I graduate. I can't have you hanging around –not knowing what I do now."

"You'll get the job," he told her, nodding his head before returning to his work.

Hermione watched him for a few minutes before getting up to leave.

.

.

.

They didn't see each other again until the first day of term.


	4. iv-v

**A/N -** _Thank you for reading/reviewing!_

* * *

 **IV.**

It was raining the night he approached her, a fire dying the Heads Common Room hearth. She'd been lying on the larger sofa, and he poked her shoulder until she awoke before sitting down next to her, smelling too much like cigarettes and Fire Whiskey for her liking.

"You stink, Riddle."

He laughed. It was the first friendly thing she'd said to him since the Ministry. He leaned over his knees, untying his shoes. He wasn't wearing an undershirt beneath his uniform shirt, and she swore she could see bruises on his skin. As she touched his back, they disappeared. He stilled beneath her touch.

"Have you made up your mind?" He asked quietly.

"Kinda."

He turned to look at her, still leaning over his knees. Her hand was still on his back. She rubbed up his ribcage and shoulder, pressing her fingers around the base of his neck. He sighed. His eyes fell closed.

"What do you want, Riddle?"

"Right now? You." His eyes opened. He smiled and sat up, pulling her hand from his back to his thigh. He circled her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "Can I have you, Granger?"

"No."

He hummed. "That's too bad."

The fire died out. He got up to tend to another one. Returned to her side as though he'd done it a thousand times. Hermione felt every nerve in her body in a way that caused her to hate herself. It was so cliché. It was so wrong. It was so-

"Sex magic isn't something to be played with, Riddle. It's serious. It's dangerous. We could…we could get sent to Azkaban."

"Or we could have the world," he suggested, looking away from the fire and directly at her.

For as many times as their eyes had met, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so clearly before.

"You don't know me."

"Don't I?"

Once again, she was trapped. He pulled her books from her lap, pushing them to the opposite side of the couch before leaning into her. She felt his nose along her jaw and ear.

"This is inappropriate."

He continued, inhaling deeply, lips brushing her neck. She didn't stop him. She couldn't. He drew his fingers over her bare thigh, pushing the edge of her shorts up as he reached them. She gripped his wrist before he could go any further.

"Not now."

"When?" His lips brushed her neck again, up and down until he actually kissed her. It was softer than she'd expected. He twisted out of her grip and brushed his fingers over her stomach before taking her jaw in his hand. The tips of his fingers slipped into her hair. He kissed her jaw this time, moving slowly toward her mouth.

"I don't…So much could go wrong. People would…we aren't really from this world, Riddle. We could really make a fool of ourselves."

"I will answer any question you have. Get any book you need. Help you in any way."

His lips dragged around her cheek as he spoke. His nose brushed the side of hers.

She was shaking. Maybe. She was interested. Maybe. Mostly, she wanted something for herself for once. She wanted a chance that wasn't connected to another Pureblood, or to any well to do Half-blood.

"I never thought of you as such a cautious person, Granger. Considering the company you keep."

"I'm logical. I know where I stand."

He whispered, "You sound defeated. You sound like you need this. Need me."

It probably wasn't a lie-

"No. I don't believe so."

-but that was.

He was so close, perfectly flush against her body. And he was so _cool_ , like a breath of fresh air or the spray of the ocean on a hot day. It was distracting.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Ok. I need this. I need you." His other hand gripped the back of her neck. "Won't you allow me this?" His nose brushed her face again. "You know what it means for you. You get more than I do."

"Then why not proposition someone you can control? Someone who won't-"

"That's no _fun,_ witch."

He made like he was going to kiss her and _Merlin_ did she want it. She would have given in. It was irrational and stupid because he hadn't even _done_ anything, but she would have done _everything_.

Tom licked her then, the tip of his tongue turning to the flat of it as he moved up her chin and near her mouth.

She ripped out of his grip, jumping up and away from him. Her eyes were wide when they landed on him, shocked and disturbed and confused. He didn't seem to think anything wrong with his actions. He stretched out over the couch, legs wide and arms opening over the back of it.

"Come back."

She tugged a hand through her hair. "My rules."

He stared at her. She imagined what she looked like, standing around in her pajamas, negotiating with…with him. With someone she'd never even considered speaking to before he'd approached her at the end of 6th year. _You're quite beautiful_.

It was stupid. She felt stupid. But that was it. He was the first man – _wizard_ \- to ever say anything about her looks that wasn't condescending or cruel. He'd never mentioned her hair or even her blood. He'd never _noticed_ before, but he thought she was _beautiful_. What had he seen? An academic? An – _Merlin,_ it felt silly to even think and consider- equal? Why else would have asked her?

It was unreal. It was _stupid_.

She opened her mouth to explain more. To question more. But, instead, she said, "Did you mean it? When you said that you thought I was beautiful?"

He seemed stumped for a moment. "I have eyes, Granger."

"I have bushy hair and big teeth and dirty blood."

His mouth twitched. He prepared to say something, but didn't. As he licked his lips, his eyes dragged over her body slowly before he got up from his seat and neared her. He took her face in her hands.

She realized that he was _good_. That he knew what he wanted and how to get it and understood that this – _she_ \- was a means to an end, even if he was offering up a substantial amount of who he was. "Do you believe those things about yourself?"

"They're true. It doesn't matter if I believe them or not."

Tom hummed. His thumb brushed her lip just before he kissed her. She opened her mouth to him, allowing him to explore before returning the kiss, feeling him let go of her jaw and unravel the braid she had her hair in. She pulled away before he could make any real progress.

"Your rules," he told her.

She nodded.

"And yes. I think you're beautiful."

.

.

.

No one noticed.

He brushed her hand in the hallway. He stopped by her desk to say something absolutely unnecessary in classes they shared. He joined her in the library early in the morning.

Not Ron nor Draco nor Harry, not even Bellatrix, even _noticed_ that they were up to anything. Which was fine, if a little disappointing, because it made everything easy for them. The rules were in place. The understanding was in place. She'd do him this favor, and he would never mention a thing of her dark tendencies –he'd been watching her, she'd learned, for years- to anyone. They took an oath. They continued to use each other.

It was fine.

No one noticed.

 **V.**

There was a moment, as Tom sunk his teeth into her neck and drove his fingers into the fragile skin stretching over her ribcage, that Hermione considered what she was doing. This wasn't _it_ yet. She still had a chance to reconsider and leave, never to speak him again. She didn't have to do this again. She didn't have to even continue this time.

But, even as she told herself these things, she knew that she was lying to herself.

The flat of his tongue smoothed against the curve of her neck just before his lips pulled her skin into his mouth. She felt him laughing. She felt him begging. She felt him drawing blood and magic and _Merlin-_

"Tom," she heard someone say, and only realized that it was her own voice as he licked up her throat and chin, spreading her blood over her lips as he hummed in response.

His nose brushed hers. His fingers climbed her back, gripped her shoulders, and forced her arms around his neck as he stood up from the couch.

"You're drunk. We shouldn't do this," she told him, her own fingers tightening in his hair. She pulled him away from where he'd returned to her neck. His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them.

"I'm not drunk," he told her, and she would have believed him if she hadn't known better.

"Ok. But we shouldn't do this. It isn't-"

He kissed her, lips sure and tongue gentle as he coxed her into opening her mouth.

They ended up in his room, on his bed, her breasts pulled over bra and skirt hiked up over her thighs. There was a hole in her tights from where she'd gotten hooked on his belt buckle, and as he laid her back, his mouth exploring her chest, one hand smoothed over her stomach as he slipped his fingers into the rips, grazing her thigh and over her panties.

She caught his wrist in her hand before he could push them away from her.

" _Tom-_ "

She felt him exhale, chastely kissing up her chest and throat before meeting her eyes.

"You talk too much, Granger. You think too much, too." He half smiled, stretching out over her, his elbows on either side of her torso and chin in his palm. His voice had been quiet, softening her toward him, and she nearly caved until he smirked. "I know you want to fuck."

She looked away from him, tugging his pillow from beneath her head and covering her face with it. "If you're anymore charming, Riddle, I'm not sure I'll be able to stand it."

He chuckled, and she felt him brush over where he'd marked her skin. Her skin tickled as he healed it, his lips moving silently over her stomach. She catalogued his use of wandless for another day- or, at the very least, later.

Someone banged on the door, startling them both, and Nott's voice muffled through before he barged in. " _Oh_ ," she heard, loud and clear. And then, "For fuck's sake, Riddle." There was a smile in his voice.

His hands were over her the moment the door opened; and he pushed up, further blocking her from view. " _Out,_ " he hissed, his fingertips grazing the underside of her breasts as he lifted the cups over them.

The door shut softly. He pulled the pillow from over her head, smiling down at her.

"You really can't find good help these days, can you?"

"I'll have to teach them respect it seems." He smirked, lowering himself to kiss her one more time. "We will do this, Hermione Granger," he murmured against her lips. His eyes were still dark as she met his gaze, but the lust she'd seen early was long gone. "I'd prefer you willing, witch."

"And if I'm not?" She asked softly. She just needed conformation. She just needed to _know_ -

"By your standards, I'm already fucked, aren't I?" He stood up, righting his clothing and smoothing his hands over his curls.

His tone was too curious. Too light. She felt goose bumps form over her stomach. She reached for his hand and smoothed her fingers over his ring. There was no way for her to hide the jerky shiver of her body.

Their eyes met. He licked his lips so slowly and hungrily that Hermione couldn't help but sit up and kiss him, her free hand holding his jaw.

"No."

He laughed, summoning his Dragon's hide boots and slipping them on. Before leaving, he turned to look at her, his face hard and jaw tight. "I really would prefer you willing; but know that I am not opposed to taking what is mine."

Disgust filtered over her features. She buttoned the middle of her shirt. " _Yours_?"

He grinned, his dimples showing and the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Tomorrow," he told her.

"Why would I fuck you after that? _Knowing_ that you would…that you would-"

He stalked back over and kissed her mouth hard, forcing her lips opens and holding her still until she softened into him. He brushed his nose against her jaw as he said, "I know it wouldn't come to that. Would it?"

"That isn't _fair_."

As though he hadn't heard her, he said, "Because you want this as much as I do."

She didn't say anything. He looked into her eyes as though he was worried. She'd remembered that she had to be willing for the spell to hold, but it didn't make her any less disgusted with him.

"Don't you, Hermione?"

"I don't have to do this," she reminded him…herself. "I wouldn't be put out of anything if I chose not to."

Upset wasn't the right word to describe Tom in that moment. His shoulders tensed. His eyes narrowed. She saw his tongue along the underside of his lip, sliding over his teeth in an almost threatening way.

"Go," she told him, pushing him away. "Go and do whatever it is you do every fortnight."

His mouth pressed gently into hers one last time before her disappeared. She fell back onto the bed.

"Was that Granger?" The questioned echoed down the hall and into the open door.

"Even if it was, I don't see how that would be your business, Nott." Tom's voice left no room for question.

She tugged the pillow back over her head and groaned.


	5. vi

**A/N -** _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

 **VI.**

"What do we have to do?"

"Nothing."

She watched him nose around her room, observing her pen set and bookshelf and the collection of origami sea creatures she had piled on her desk, shelves, and nightstands. He picked up the octopus and observed it before moving on her dresser.

"Nothing?"

She wasn't sure why she'd never asked before. She'd asked him at least a thousand questions about everything, but their task had never come up. Not in detail. Only what she'd get out of it ( _everything_ ), and what else he wanted from her ( _nothing_ ). (Not that she believed it.)

"No, witch- I need your blood. You need mine. We'll consummate the union," he chuckled at her expression. "How would you prefer I describe our coupling?"

"Any modern way will suffice, Riddle."

"You didn't seem to take to the idea of fucking yesterday afternoon."

"Yes, well…I've had some time to think, obviously. Not to mention we've agreed-"

"Yes. We have," he turned away from her, picking up her jewelry box and flipping the lid open.

"One would assume that you're more comfortable now. Especially when considering the fact that you will be reliant on me frequently."

He smiled at her, head tilting and eyes glinting. "Yes."

She jerked. It wasn't an answer.

For a moment, he seemed indulgent. For a moment, she decided she wouldn't do it. For a moment, she'd seen the madness in his eyes and smile and tilt of his head.

But she itched her thigh and moved on.

"After, you will need to remain in bed-"

"I know that. So our magic can come to, so to speak, together. I really just hadn't realized there wasn't much else to do."

"We'll have to do the spell again on the next full moon. I'll come to you, but you must initiate that time. It won't hold if you aren't willing."

"I know," she told him, fingers twisting in the ends of her hair. "It's just interesting that it's all so easy."

"Easy?" He questioned, his voice truly showing his awe. After a few seconds too long, he calculatingly said, "I see…We could take it a step further, if you'd like. Our bond, though obviously strong and incredible, will not unite us in the way a soul bound-"

"I will report you to the Headmaster if you continue with that sentence."

He sat down next to her at the foot of her bed, his thigh heavy against hers. They both watched the full moon outside of her window before he lifted a hand to rest on her knee. His fingertips spread over the cap familiarly, and she jumped, laughing.

"Where is it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She knew he was asking about his diary.

"It's safe."

"I know." He sounded so sure that it actually disgusted her. "But, where?"

 _Too close_ , she wanted to say. "Left bedside stand. Top drawer." _Not close enough, too._

He hummed contentedly, pulling his sweater over his head. She'd already stripped down for the night, clad only in her nightgown.

"Have you read it?" He asked.

His voice was too casual, and she hated herself for knowing what that meant. Regardless of what her answer would be, it was important to him.

"No."

He met her eyes. "But, you sleep with it."

"Under my pillow," she confirmed.

He nodded, looking down to unbutton the shirt beneath his pullover. "Don't read it. You won't like it."

She waited until he was shirtless before asking, "Why make them at all? It's…you're torturing yourself. You won't be who you think you are when you're done."

"How do you know?" He was standing now, directly in front of her as he unfastened his trousers.

She recognized the tone of his voice again, and blinked.

She looked up at him to see that his face was blank. He was…nervous was never the right word. Prepared for the worst seemed more fitting. 'Ready,' even, though she was never quite sure for what.

She wasn't a threat to him. She wouldn't be, either.

"Are you worried I was right, Riddle? That what you've done is stupid?"

"Never."

She looked down at her nails. "Never mind, then."

He took hold of her jaw, attempting to gain the upper hand. "How does it feel? Knowing you're about to share the most important part of yourself with me? With a monster?"

"Monster?" She questioned.

He only smirked.

"Should I be scared?"

"Yes."

"Of you?"

His other hand drew over her shoulder and back and forth over the curve of her neck. "Of _us_ , love."

She almost smiled. "Are you lying to me, Riddle? Am I going to wake up in the morning and hate you?"

His mouth twitched. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers lightly. "You will not wake up in the morning and hate me, Hermione- at least, not anymore than you should. And I would never lie to you," his voice hung in the air. He kissed her again. "Unless it was for the better."

"For the better?" She asked.

"I think I promised you safety, did I not? I always keep my word."

"Promise me you aren't lying, then-"

She wasn't sure when or where he'd gotten a knife, but he suddenly nicked her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, his tongue swirling and pulling. There was more blood than there should have been, and she realized that he must have cut his own lip or tongue as well as she was forced to swallow.

Her mind was blank, empty of everything but Tom _fucking_ Riddle.

He pressed his lips to hers repeatedly, murmuring Latin and hissing crazily and if she'd been in her right mind, she would have stopped him. She would have shoved him off and forced him to get the hell away from her, because something wasn't right.

But, she wasn't in her right mind. So, she lifted her fingers across his chest and touched his neck lightly, twisting them into his curls as she joined the kiss, all lips and teeth. Blood and spit covered them both as they pulled away from each other, Tom licking at his bottom lip.

He grinned at her, eyes like a starving man's as he took her in. She could see the blood pooling in his mouth and the way he positioned his jaw to hold it. Something forced her to reach for him again. Her mouth was open, and as he pushed his tongue in blood filled her mouth. He sucked her lip hard as he pulled away.

Her head was light and body boneless.

"Swallow."

She did, eyes falling closed as he continued to lick and suck at her bleeding lip. It was disgusting and disturbing in a way she hadn't considered before, but she didn't _care_.

There wasn't a way to describe the feeling. It'd happened too quickly, leaving a layer of need over her mind. She found it hard to keep up when he said, "You never answered my question."

"I can't remember."

And there was something important she as supposed to have recognized. To have noticed about him and his words and his self-serving nature. But…

He pulled away enough to look into her eyes. She took the opportunity to move further onto her bed, encouraging him to follow her.

Again, he grinned, running his tongue over his teeth. There wasn't any more blood as he said, "My little lioness."

The words seemed wrong coming from him. Twisted and too fond and haunting.

She healed her own lip as he made his way up the bed, kissing her thoroughly once he reached her.

They didn't have to do this. She told him so.

He smiled slowly, pressing her down into the mattress. He positioned her thighs over his, leaning onto his elbows to press a kiss to her mouth. "Do you want to, though? Do you want this, Granger?"

When she didn't answer, he sat up, pushing her nightgown further up her hips.

She was watching him from between her lashes, and smirked when he realized that she wasn't wearing any panties. His chest shuddered. His fingers froze on her hips.

"Do _you_ want this, Tom?"

He vanished their clothing, leaning back over to kiss her again. His erection rested heavily on her, hot and hard against her center.

Her fingers slid up his back slowly.

"Yes."

His hand found her core. Found her wet. He bit her neck, teeth imprinting on her skin as he circled her clit. When she began to whimper, he soothed her throat with open mouth kisses, asking, "Do you, Granger?"

His free hand tightened in her hair, holding her in place as their eyes met. "Do you want my cock? Do you want to get fucked by a monster?"

Her eyes were closed, and her throat felt as though it was threatening to do the same. Her stomach tightened and cunt ached and she barely realized that she was grinding against his fingers, trying to relieve herself.

"Hermione," he murmured, breath fanning over her cheek. She began to tremble beneath him.

"Stop-"

He did. Her eyes popped open to see that he was watching her with a worried expression on his face. It vanished too quickly.

She swallowed. "I didn't mean stop. I meant…I don't know-"

"Have you done this before?"

"Yes."

He didn't seem impressed.

"To myself, I mean. I've brought myself to orgasm. This is the first time-"

It felt unsatisfying to tell him that she _wasn't_ a virgin. Her previous lovers didn't embarrass her; she was more embarrassed by and upset with herself for never demanding more of them.

"It's fine," she lifted her hips enough off the bed to press against his cock. Her voice was breathy and low as she said, "Keep going. It's a lot, with the blood and the _idea_ and effect, but…I'll tell you if it's too much. Promise."

He had to believe her. She had to believe herself. It would all be for naught if she didn't.

Tom closed his eyes for a minute, burying his face in her shoulder. His fingers slowly returned to their work, his tongue exploring her skin. She touched as much of him as she could reach, enjoying the solid, warm feeling of his skin and weight.

Her eyes fell closed again, hips rotating against his fingers, and too quickly she began to tremble again.

"Do you feel that, Granger?"

She felt him lick his lips against her collarbone.

"Do you like the feeling of my fingers on you? In you? Making you cum?"

His voice was so quiet and gentle that she nearly forgot who he was. What they were doing. That they weren't…

Her eyes opened. Her breath caught in her throat.

"That's it, love. Cum for me, Hermione."

She was shaking and hot and cold and so _hungry_ for him and his offerings.

She felt too much of him: his fist in her hair; his thighs against her own; his breath in her mouth just before he kissed her again. There was an odd urge filling her, begging her get closer to him. To dig and claw her way through his skin and into his chest and mind and _live_ there forever.

"Please," she let go of his arms. Reached for him. "I need you, Riddle. _Please_."

There was nothing else in the world but the two of them.

His eyes were open when she finally looked into them, watching her, and she gasped. He let go of her hair in favor of her throat, squeezing lightly. When she didn't protest, he kissed her, smiling when her hands crept up to wrap delicately around his wrist. Her thumb pressed into his ring and she sighed happily.

He rubbed his cock against her slit just before angling his hips into her, slowly pressing in.

"How does it feel, Hermione?"

She heard the rest of his question, hanging in the air. Waiting.

It was odd to know that he truly believed himself a monster. That he'd flat out told her. That she'd seen it –even if it was only briefly- in his eyes. That she still wanted this and him and it _had_ to be the blood. It _had_ to be the fact that they'd spent too much time together, leaching off of each other's mind and magic. Reading that fucking book over and over after him had started the process ages ago- she felt cheated and betrayed and-

She shifted her hips, rotating them slightly and groaning. Her mind was hazy and unclear.

-there had been blood staining the pages of the book the first few times she'd read it. And then it began to cut her, its pages sharp and hungry and needy and-

"Riddle. _Move_. Please. _Fuck me_. I'm," she broke off, struggling to inhale. Everything seemed to flood her all at once.

-exactly like her.

She didn't want this. But she did. She needed it. She needed him. She needed to finish whatever it was she'd been tricked into starting.

His pace was slow, strokes long and heavy as he again asked, "How does it _feel_ , Hermione?"

" _Good_."


	6. vii

**A/N** \- _Thanks for reading/reviewing!_

* * *

 **VII.**

"I don't understand why you lied to me."

Tom sighed, his head falling back on the couch as Hermione paced the room. He lowered his eyes to watch her, licking his lips slowly as she lifted her arms to run her hands through her curls. The sliver of skin revealed at her waist seemed to glow in the firelight.

"I didn't lie to you, Granger."

Her eyes were narrow and cold when they locked in on his, her mouth tight and shoulders tense. She was torn between hating him –as she should, really- and the feelings the incomplete ritual left in her. If she tried hard enough, she could ignore them, but his throat looked inviting, and she could see his cock hardening through the fabric of his pants.

"You believed what you wanted to." He lifted one hand from where it rested in his thigh, reaching for her, and rolled his eyes when she shook her head. "Honestly. You _read_ the book. You're intelligent. Do you really mean to tell me that you had no idea the ritual had already started?"

"How _would_ I have known, Riddle? You left the book on the train bench and disappeared. You told me I couldn't ask you about it."

He sat up, frowning disgustedly at her. "The first chapter talks about how only those who desire will see. That only those who's magic align will read and understand. You can't tell me you didn't know what you were doing. You saw my blood on those pages –felt, I'm sure, how that book tried to consume me- long before it started in on you.

"I've allowed you your ignorance and denial, Granger, because I _understand_ that you force yourself to exist in this morally grey world with boring rule and expectations and desires. But, I won't have anymore of it. What's done is done."

She'd stopped pacing, arms folded over her chest as she watched and listened to him.

"Tom," she murmured, and watched him jerk, if only barely, at the sound of his names on her lips. His eyes hardened just before she said, "I feel used. And dirty. You allowed me to believe I had control over this-" she gestured between them "-when in reality, I don't. You initiated. You're in control. I'm…compliant."

"Take control, then."

She twitched. "Excuse me?"

Tom sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I can't believe you pulled me out of bed at two in the morning for this." Again, he reached for her, pulling her into his lap when she was near enough.

"I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can barely even _think_ because I'm so consumed by _this_. By you. And you act as though this is nothing."

"This is everything to me, Granger. You and I, we share the world now. Can't you feel it?"

She tilted her face up, lips against his throat as she said, "All too well."

.

.

.

"You cheated on me," she accused, her eyes wide and mouth open.

His eyes lifted to her, lids heavy and gaze focused everywhere it shouldn't be. She shoved him, palm and knuckles hard against his chest.

"Hermione-"

" _Don't_ 'Hermione' me! You cheated one me, and you let me befriend the witch. You're sick and disgusting and I can't believe…you _cheated_."

She plopped back down into her chair.

"Stop fucking saying that, Granger," Tom told her between his teeth. He looked around in the library, but it was too early for even Ravenclaws to be studying. He rounded the table and sat across from her. "I didn't cheat on you. We aren't exclusive. We aren't even dating."

"We're _fucking_. Not to mention the blood exchange, thing. It's _assumed_ , Riddle."

"Well, you know what they say," he told her, a light shrug in his shoulders.

She used her magic to throw her inkpot at him, watching as he jerked at the last possible moment. It splattered against the window behind him, but a line of inky black stained the chest and shoulder of his quidditch shirt. "Don't do that to me, Tom."

His gaze softened, if only barely.

She felt herself shudder, a shaky breath escaping her, and busied herself by marking up her study guide. "I need to take a step back from this," with her free hand, she gestured between them. "I can't…I will do what I promised. But _this_ has to stop."

"You can't."

"I can't _what_ , Riddle?" Her hand stilled and eyes narrowed.

"You can't stop this. I need you."

Her eyes widened, meeting his heavy gaze. He swallowed. She couldn't believe him. She didn't want to. She knew better.

"Only for carnal purposes. We don't have to hang out or speak or even look at each other-"

" _Stop_ ," he hissed.

"And even if you do need me, Riddle, I don't need you," she went back to her work. "That's what you don't seem to get. I don't need you or this. I did you a favor, and I can walk away at anytime."

"Please don't." It wasn't quite a request, but it wasn't a demand, either. He wouldn't beg. She didn't really want him to.

"Why shouldn't I? Because you 'need' me?" She laughed. "I need me too, you know?"

"Are you jealous?"

She wished she had another inkpot. "I'm offended. I'm _hurt_."

He said nothing, and for a moment Hermione wasn't even sure if he was breathing.

"I don't like sharing," she admitted. "I hate it. I'm not good at it."

He nodded slowly, turning his wand over repeatedly in his hands. "Ok. We're exclusive."

"Until this is over."

His gaze narrowed. "And then you walk away."

"And we're both free to act as though nothing ever happened," she nodded.

"Hands clean."

"Yes." She watched him. She couldn't read him.

He licked his lips slowly. Hungrily. Distractingly. "I need you."

Involuntarily, she inhaled too sharply. Coughed. Felt her hands shaking. "When?"

"Now."

It was her turn to look around the library. They were in the back. No portraits. No students. They'd see anyone before anyone saw them. And, it was still too early, anyway.

He pushed slightly away from the table, waiting. She got up, walked around, and stood next to him hesitantly. This was the first time they'd done anything so publicly.

It almost made it too real. But, the morning light through the old glass of the windows shined lazily and prettily over the area. Leaving a dusty golden glow on them, and it was suddenly unreal. _Perfect._

She remembered the day on the train, when all of the shit they were in started, and felt her breath catch again.

He left his wand on the table, unbuttoning her blouse before hooking an arm around her waist. He kissed her stomach and pulled her onto his lap, her knees on either side of his waist.

Their mouths met, forcing themselves on each other. He broke off the kiss, eyes open and staring too deeply into her as he specifically kissed the scar on her bottom lip –a permanent reminder of what they'd done. His tongue swiped over her skin, and she felt his scar pointedly over hers. "Always, Granger."

She felt him against her thigh and ground into him, her fingers wrapping themselves in his curls. She tugged his head back. He shifted his hips against her, his fingers pushing her skirt up her bare thighs and hands gripping at her waist as he pressed her into him.

"Apologize."

His eyes were clouded, lids heavy and cheeks flushed. Even his lips seemed darker than normal, shiny from their kiss. Unable to resist, she leaned down and kissed him again. He undid his belt, and she tugged one hand from his curls to pull his cock from his trousers and massage it slowly. He groaned. She rubbed him against her panties.

"Fuck," he breathed into her mouth.

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry." He kissed her softly.

She pressed him against her thigh, pushing her underwear to the side before rubbing the head of his cock against herself.

He groaned. "I apologize for offending you. For hurting you. _Hermione_."

She let go of his hair and pressed two fingers into his mouth, adding a third at the last moment. He pressed his tongue to them, sucking gently. She rose off of his lap, tugging her fingers from his mouth and rubbing them against herself as his hands slid up the backs of her thighs and under her panties. He gripped her bum. She sunk down onto him, swallowing his groan of pleasure as she kissed him again.

.

.

.

 _You're mine. You're mine. You're mine._

* * *

 **A/N -** Obligatory reminder that this is a hella long one shot and things don't always add up in them and I was drunk when I wrote this.


	7. viii-ix

**A/N -** _2/2 today ; read vii if you haven't already._

* * *

 **VIII.**

"I don't mean to sound cruel," Hermione drew her arms around his neck, forcing him to relax into into her chest.

" _You_?" He teased, laughing. "Cruel? I _never-_ "

Her laugh cut him off. He hooked his arms around her legs and he rubbed his chest slowly, encouraging him to further relax against her, and enjoyed the feel of him letting go.

"Are you okay, Tom?" She asked quietly, her jaw resting against the side of his head.

He reached for one of her hands, fingers twining with hers. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. Waited. Hoped, really, that he would just tell her. "You seem distant," she told him after while. "I don't recognize your magic anymore."

"Is it darker?" His tone was curious. Anxious, even.

She hummed thoughtfully. "That isn't the word I would use, though I do find it very telling."

"What word would you use, Hermione?"

The hand still rubbing his chest paused. "Heavier," she dragged her nails toward one of his nipples. "More provocative."

He jumped when she tweaked it, as though he hadn't really expected her to do it.

"I can't even believe they still let you go here."

"Only you can feel that, Granger. _They_ have no idea."

"It's us and them, now?" She half-teased.

His fingers skimmed the back of her thigh. "It has been for awhile."

She forced him to look at her, pressing a kiss to his brow. "Why do you treat me as though I'm a stranger, then? As though your mouth hasn't tasted me? As though my fingers haven't-"

"That's enough, Granger," he warned as though he were speaking to Malfoy or Nott. It disgusted her.

"I think it's unfair that you're doing these things without me." She let his jaw relax. Continued her exploration of his chest with the tips of her fingers. "I want nothing more from this than to _learn_ , you know? To grow and to-to- to _know_."

He was quiet for a long time before craning his neck and turning enough to kiss her. "I know your magic. I know your limits. You couldn't handle this."

She wasn't offended. She understood. His limits –she hated to admit it, because it made her feel less than- were less than her own. She'd come to understand that his magic was damn near limitless, unbound by fear, duty, and expectation. She couldn't say the same of herself, no matter how much she wished she could.

"Then do something I can! The only thing I'm getting out of this is _fucked_ , Tom. Too many ways to really understand."

"Is one way at least enjoyable?"

"When I can picture it's someone else-"

He cut her off, but she'd expected it. She hadn't any more to say, anyway. Surprisingly, his voice was calm as he asked, "Is that right, love?"

"I love your mouth. I love your fingers. I love being full of your cock and desires and," she broke off, her pushing him slightly and attempting to sit up on his bed. He turned toward her, his face a mask. "Knowing it's you- knowing you're this fucked up person – _monster-_ " He smirked-, "I've accepted it. It's just…you don't picture your fucking Bellatrix or that Lestrange girl?"

"I've fucked them both, Granger. And I could do it again, if I wanted to. I would have nurtured and used them, if I'd wanted to. But I chose you. I decided that you were worth more than anyone else could ever be-"

"Oh, lay _off_ it, Riddle."

He frowned. "I mean it. Why would I waste my time with someone I could break?"

Her brows rose. "You don't think you could break me?"

"Why would I want to?"

.

.

.

It was November when he took Neville's seat in Transfiguration. The entire class had to rearrange themselves to make it right. He took her hand. He kissed it. He bit her knuckle familiarly, tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

"Tom?"

She didn't recognize the voice. Their eyes never left each other. "Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to convince Granger to fuck me after class, Bella. What does it look like?"

Hermione laughed. He smiled. Bellatrix sucked her teeth angrily.

"It's a full moon tonight," he told her.

A full moon meant that that they had to finish their ritual. That this would be over come morning. She wasn't sure….she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be.

"Yes. I know."

He nodded. He let go of her hand. They didn't look at each other for the rest of the lesson.

 _Everyone_ noticed.

.

.

.

They didn't meet. They allowed themselves to be preoccupied. It was easier than admitting that they were interested in changing the terms of their arrangement.

Instead, he came to her the next morning, rousing her with his mouth, smirking as her fingers tangled in his hair and her body shook uncontrollably.

She'd propped herself up on her elbows after regaining control of herself, smiling at him. He didn't lift his head from her hip, his fingers circling her sensitive flesh lazily. She continued to shake and twitch under his attention.

"There are plenty of full moons."

"My thoughts exactly."

 **IX.**

"What was the cruel thing you planned to say to me?"

"Oh." Hermione tugged her hands through her curls, looking around his room. There was something different about it every time she found herself here, though she could never really tell what it was. "That."

"Yes." He touched her back.

"I was just curious about what happened to your nose?" She felt him freeze, and turned to find him staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

"What's wrong with my nose, Granger?"

"I don't know. It just looks odd. Makes you look less charming and more…dangerous. Rugged. I don't know, Riddle. Did you hurt it playing quidditch?"

"No," he told her tightly. "I didn't hurt it playing quidditch. Aren't you supposed to be using your mouth for something else right now, love?"

She licked her lips, eyes falling to where the sheet pooled around his waist. "I feel like you take advantage of this rite."

He grinned at her. "I'd be a fool not to."

Hermione rolled her eyes, getting up from his bed in search of her clothes. "Right, well," she found her bra and slipped it on, turning to look at him again. "Tonight, I have plans, and I'm sure you have plans with your little band of misfits as well."

"Let me guess, you'll be with the boy wonders tonight," he commented.

"If you must know, we're having a bonfire-"

" _How_ you all got approval for that, I certainly don't know."

"Perhaps if you used your Head Boy privileges for fun instead of, I don't know, sponsoring _Fight Club_ in the Forbidden Forest."

He gave her an amused look as he asked, "Is that really what you think I do?"

"I don't know what you do! Because you don't tell me anything about you!"

"To be fair," he offered, "you don't tell me anything about you, either."

She stared at him for a minute, considering how odd their relationship had become. At length, she climbed back onto his bed and sat as close as possible to him. He still appeared to be amused, but she could see the tightness in his bare chest and shoulders that he tried to hide as he touched her thigh.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

He started at his first name, eyes darting up to meet hers. His gaze was narrow and mistrusting.

"I'm okay," she told him, taking his hand in hers. "After the ritual, I mean. And in general. I feel…I only feel really exhausted after, you know…well not after every time we have sex just sometimes, but other than that," she shrugged, fingers drawing circles on his palm. "But you always feel so; I mean you feel strong, but you seem tired. _Really_ tired."

"I'm on top of the world, Granger. How could I not be?"

She gave him a soft smile, not really believing him but not wanting to press the subject. "Remember the last time you saw me at the Ministry? When I told you I wanted more."

"Yes. You had a date that evening."

"What?"

The smile he offered her was one of supreme indulgence. "The lace bra," he licked his lips, "Plum or maroon-"

" _Oh_ ," Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you noticed."

Tom used his free hand to reach over, fingers smoothing over one of her breasts and tweaking her nipple. "I spent the rest of the summer hating whoever got to take it off you that evening."

Hermione laughed. "I didn't have a date. I knew you'd be in my part of the department that day, and I'd plan to tell you I'd do it, and I hoped that you'd just _kiss me_ , but you didn't. I was so annoyed. I spent 96 pounds on that bra."

The look he gave her was so priceless that she leaned over to kiss him, a soft smile on her lips when she pulled away. She turned his hand over and touched his ring, grinning at the small moan he gave when she pressed her thumb into it. "How does that feel?"

"It always felt good," he admitted, still watching her. "Now, it's more so. Whenever you touch my journal I get a raging fucking hard on."

She laughed.

"Probably because I put so much of myself into that one. It was my first. I'd just made the ring when we met last summer."

"Did you really have to kill someone to make them?"

"Yes." His fingers twined through hers as she flinched at the ease of his admittance. "The...Muggleborn…that died last year created that diary."

 _"_ _Gross._ "

He laughed, startling Hermione. His eyes were closed, dimples pressed into his hollow cheeks, and she reached over to touch his face on pure impulse. Instantly, his laughter died, smile fading as he caught her hand.

"Sorry," she told him, but he kissed her fingertips, oddly focused on her.

"And I killed my Muggle father to make the ring. The second best thing I've ever done."

There was a knock on his door, causing them both to frown.

"Do you give the password out?"

"Theodore Nott is quite the ward breaker," he told her. He let go of her hand long enough to toss her his quidditch jersey. "Come in," he called, eyes never leaving her.

"Oh. Granger." Nott looked around uncomfortably. "I hadn't thought you'd be here, considering your House's win."

"I was just leaving," she smiled at him.

Tom's fingers tightened around hers. "Were you, love?"

Nott coughed.

"I thought you were joining us this evening."

"Riddle?" Nott questioned, sounding a lot like Hermione felt: lost and confused.

"She thinks we fight each other in the Forbidden Forest, Theodore. We can't have that, can we? And Bella will be with us tonight-"

"-Even more reason for Granger _not_ to be, if you ask me-"

"-they'll have to learn to get along. Bellatrix is quite important to me, Hermione."

"That doesn't mean they need to be _friends_ , Riddle, _really_. It's best to keep work and," Nott looked Hermione over before finally saying, "play separate."

"Plus, I _have_ to go to the bonfire. I'm Head Girl, and my house _won_."

Tom sighed, kissing her knuckles before saying, "I suppose we'll do this another evening, then."

"Right," she pulled her hand from his and moved to get up, but he caught her arm.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Riddle-"

"Nott," Tom finally looked at him, "you all are dismissed for the evening."

Her eyes widened, both she and Nott sharing a look of complete horror as Tom said, "I'll be accompanying Hermione."

"Riddle," Nott calmly started, "she's-"

"My girlfriend," Tom remarked, and Hermione was sure that he threw off the entire universe with the statement. He gave Nott a cold smile, "I expect to see all you at breakfast tomorrow."

Once they were alone, she said, "You can't come with me."

"You mean I shouldn't, which is exactly why I will. Unless, of course, you are ashamed of our relationship."

She frowned. "That's not fair."

"Then what is it, Hermione?"

"You can't just call me your girlfriend!" She pulled out of his grip and got out of bed, pacing around.

His amused expression returned. "I assumed that you and I were officially together since Halloween."

"Well you know what they say about that," she told him coldly.

He scowled at her. "Don't do that." And then, as an afterthought, he said, "We've done this before."

She folded her arms over her chest as she said, "We have."

"I'm going with you tonight, Hermione. Regardless of whether or not we are romantically involved-"

"We aren't romantically involved, though! We fuck. We do our homework together from time to time. We…were…magically linked, which is a whole _other_ story, but don't mistake this for something for isn't."

He stared at her for a moment. "As Head Boy, it is also a responsibility of mine to support your endeavors as Head Girl, as well as other House's successes, regardless of it being a direct result of a failure for my own."

He got up from the bed, and circled the foot of his bed to get to his wardrobe.

Hermione noticed an odd amount of bruises along his back, but ignored it as she felt his magic brush over her with a cleansing spell. He pulled on a sweater as she tugged her jeans on.

Once they were both dressed, he turned to her and said, "You're really fucking weird."

"And you hate Muggleborns, so I can't really figure out why it matters."

"You aren't like the others."

"I resent that. I'm _exactly_ like them. The only difference is that I refused to let a world of people tell me _no_ , where many other Muggleborns allow they're prejudice fucking peers dictate how much success they have in this world. I can't fault them for that, and you shouldn't either. You aren't even a Pureblood and you're the biggest fucking bigot I know."

"I have never treated you poorly."

"I don't care how you treat me! How you treat others is what disturbs me."

"You didn't have a problem with it when you decided to sleep with my journal every night last summer, Granger. Nor did you have a problem with it when we quite literally linked ourselves for the rest of our natural lives." He shrugged. "It seems a bit odd to have a problem _now_."

"I've gotten what I wanted."

He recoiled as though he'd been burned.

"Tonight was a full moon. I came to you. It's _done_."

"Hermione," he murmured, stepping closer to her.

She pushed him away, ignoring the way he winced painfully. " _Don't_. It's done. The book isn't influencing us anymore. You don't have to pretend you wanted anything more from me then my magic. Winter holiday starts soon, too. More than enough time apart for this to work it's way out of out systems. We're _done._ "

" _Hermione_ ," he tried again, but she pushed past him and out of his room, locking her own door behind her.

* * *

 **A/N -** _Thanks for reading/reviewing!_


	8. x

**A/N -** _Thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting._

 **T/W -** _Race (?) Play._

* * *

 **X.**

"Are you and Riddle actually, um," Harry frowned, "you know?"

Hermione felt Ron and Ginny's eyes on her as well, curious and accusing. She sighed tiredly, "I don't know."

"You don't know if you're actually sleeping together, or if you're dating?"

"I didn't know what you were asking, Harry. We are not sleeping together. And we are most definitely not dating. He's a self-righteous, self-involved, racist prick."

"Well," Ron started, "No one is arguing with you there, 'Mione. But, we all know what was said in Transfiguration last week. And you've been missing since then-"

" _All term_ ," Ginny injected.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her as Ron said, "You're next, Gin, so don't get too comfortable."

She huffed irritably. "If Hermione wants to fuck Riddle" –they all choked, eyes widening and skin flushing- "then she can! All that should matter to us is that she's, you know, being smart about it. Not getting into anything she shouldn't be. She's a smart girl."

"Thanks, Gin."

She smiled back at her until Ron asked, "Why did he come last night? He shouldn't have even known about the bonfire, and he showed up on your behalf."

Hermione frowned, having not known that he'd done. She's locked herself in her room and fallen asleep. "I wasn't feeling well. He went on and on about his being his duty as Head Boy, or something equally pompous, and I locked myself in my room. I didn't think he was going to go. Especially not without me."

"Well, he did," Ron told her. "And he brought Blaise Zabini with him."

"Do you want me to apologize?"

"We're just trying to figure you out, Hermione," Harry told her. "You've been distant."

"Like I said," Ginny injected, "if she's happy, who cares?"

"We aren't doing anything. We just work together. There is nothing to worry about it."

Neither Harry or Ron appeared to really believe her, but they dropped the subject. After, she leaned closer and asked, "But, really, Hermione, what are you thinking?"

"I," she glanced over at Harry and Ron to see that they'd started their own conversation. "It isn't what you think. We're...we were working on something together, and we're no longer in collaboration. There is nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione sighed. Despite herself, she had still been spending time with him –albeit, they spent it in complete silence, and she used the majority of the time to stare angrily at him. So, perhaps there _was_ something to worry about, because it shouldn't have been impossible to write Tom off, but it was proving to be.

It wasn't as though she had any real feelings for him. He just happened to be the exact opposite of what she'd expected, at least when they were alone; and it was so surprising and unexpected that, coupled with the effects of the stupid book and their godforsaken, self-imposed task, she couldn't help but soften toward him.

 _They're supposed to be incredible. Supreme wizards. Yet, they cannot best each other._

They weren't exactly staying out of each other's way, though, she reasoned with herself. Perhaps they just…couldn't accept the truth. She found it hard to acknowledge herself, even as it grasped more and more firmly at her conscious.

Her eyes met Ginny's. "He thinks I'm beautiful," Hermione murmured, confusing her friend, "and that I'm his equal. Is that…is that enough?"

She laughed shakily. "If only I knew, Hermione. I'd have solved my own problem ages ago."

"Hermione?"

She looked over her shoulder to see Genevieve Greengrass standing behind her. Resisting anything impulsive, she smiled and said, "Hey, Gigi. What's up?"

She offered her a sealed note, and Hermione recognized Tom handwriting almost instantly.

"I don't want that."

"The Head Boy asked me to give it to you," she told her, thrusting the envelope at her.

Hermione took it, "Fine. Tell him not to send _you_ with anything anymore, okay? He can find me himself."

The Ravenclaw left quickly.

"I thought you were friends with her?"

"No. We just…happened to be doing the same thing at one time."

"O _kay_ ," Ginny said, looking between Hermione and Genevieve.

She opened the note to see Tom's small, clean hand writing in the very center of the parchment:

 _I need you._

"Hermione?" Ron questioned as she crumpled the note up.

 _I wonder if Dumbledore gets these from Grindelwald and drops fucking_ _ **everything**_ , she considered, reaching for her cup of tea and quickly finishing it. _He goes missing often enough._

"It would be nice to have just a moment for myself," she huffed. "It's Head's business," she lied easily. She'd been doing it all term, after all. "In case either of us goes missing, the other is probably dead in our dorm."

Ginny caught her wrist before she left, their eyes meeting.

It meant more to her then she cared to admit, but Hermione would have been lying if she said she understood.

.

.

She met him in their common space, sitting down next to him on the couch. Her fingers seemed to twine through his on their own accord, and her mind quieted as he brought her knuckles to his lips. It was sick and disgusting and revealing in a way she didn't want to think about.

"Let's at least remain friends," he suggested, voice low and warm and wholly uncharacteristic.

She turned to look at him, his eyes meeting hers in a lazy, self-indulgent way that left her feeling self-conscious.

Quietly, she asked, "Were we ever friends?"

He chuckled, but the sound didn't reach his eyes. She wasn't sure why she'd noticed, but she knew there had been times –many, many times- that he had been genuine with his amusement around her, and it bothered her that this was not one of those moments. He stood up, pulling her with him and leading her to his room.

"We need to talk," he told her.

"Ok," she agreed.

But, when they got to his room, he lowered his mouth to hers in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss that left her dazed and confused and breathless when he finally pulled away from her, her face in his hands and a smile in his eyes. Instead of talking, they laid down, her back against his chest and his face pressed into her shoulder.

"You said you needed me," she murmured, hooking her fingers through his knuckles at her waist.

"I do," he sleepily replied.

"But the ritual is complete."

"Yeah," he said, and a moment later, she felt his relax further against her, his breath slow and even on her skin.

She hated herself for it, but she smiled until she fell asleep, too.

.

.

.

"How do you think of me?"

Tom looked up at Hermione and frowned, glancing to the front of the classroom before saying, "I don't."

She would have been offended by the careless way he'd said it if a smirk hadn't formed on his lips. He refocused on the potion he was stirring. "I don't think about ring or my journal or my heart, either."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. Felt her legs threaten to give beneath her. She stopped crushing spider legs and turned to look at him, sitting on the edge of her stool. "Do you care about those things?"

He grinned at her this time, closing the few inches between them. She felt eyes on them, heavy and accusing and hateful and she _didn't care._ She just wanted him to kiss her. She prayed it even.

He didn't.

"You ended that part of our relationship, Hermione."

She stood back up as he returned to his pot. "What part though, Tom? Because we were never romantic. We still do everything that we did before."

"Not everything."

For a moment, she considered what could possibly be different. They still fucked. They still did their homework together. They still bounced weird, 'hypothetical' questions off of each other. They still woke one another up in the middle of the night to discuss different theories. She still woke up in his bed, completely clothed, wrapped around him as though he was a fucking life source.

He reached over and plucked three blades of Irish grass from her station.

As he dropped them into the potion, she realized that he hadn't touched her in ages. Not unnecessarily. Not unless she initiated it. He didn't share bits of his childhood with her or bring her unnecessary gifts anymore, either. He didn't dog-ear books and leave them for her to read. He didn't save weird snacks from Slytherin's table to share with her in the middle of the night or ask her how her friends doing anymore.

"For such an intelligent witch," he started lowly, "you're _dense_. And oblivious."

"I'm not accustomed to this," she admitted.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, until he finally said, "It's not that I _care_ about those things. They are necessary. I deal with what that means."

"I see," she said, but she didn't really.

"Do you miss me?" He asked. The question was cold and hurtful. He might as well have told her he killed her cat.

She realized that she _did_.

"No."

She ignored the way he froze, for a fraction of a second, and went back to crushing spider legs.

.

.

.

" _Tom_ **,"** Hermione breathed, gasping when his fist tightened in her hair and he pulled her against him.

Her back arched, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. She lifted her hand behind her to touch his shoulder as he continued to pound into her, arm around her waist.

"Yes?" He asked, somewhere between a hiss and a growl.

She cried out, both spent and wanting more. " _Please_ ," she begged.

He chuckled, fingers loosening from their grip in her hair and wrapping around her throat. His jaw rested against the side of her head as he tightened his hold. "Merlin," he murmured. "Iungant nos. Benedic. Magicae nostra tuo utere (1)." She whimpered and he chuckled, his tongue sliding against her skin familiarly.

She arched further, her hips tilting deeper against him. He hissed, angling his thrusts more perfectly against her as he pressed his lips against her ear. "Fac nos dignos. Idem. Divinum (2)."

Hermione moaned, turning her head toward him. Their kiss was all teeth and tongue, the need to consume each other their driving force. His thrusts came harder, the hand at her throat sliding down her body and finding her clit. She jumped as his fingers ghosted over it, breathing into his mouth. He swallowed her need, fingers circling the small bundle of nerves agonizingly slowly.

"Do you like that?" He whispered, slowing his pace. "Do you like it when I touch you, when I fuck you, little Mudblood?"

She wanted to be angry with him, but her body betrayed her, quaking beneath him. She heard his smile as he said, "That's it, my love." His pace quickened, as she began to shake more pointedly against him.

" _God_ ," she breathed. "Tom," his name came out with a gasp, her body beginning to convulse. "I'm going to-"

He pulled out, his fingers abandoning her clit in favor of her mouth.

"Fuck," she sobbed around them. "Why-"

He pushed her down, pressing the side of her face and chest into his bed. His smile was cold, eyes blown wide and dark with lust as they watched each other. Her hips were still angled up against him, and he rubbed his cock against her slit just enough to keep her on edge.

"How do you feel, Hermione?"

"Like I want to kill you," she rasped.

He chuckled, tapping the head of his cock against her clit. She jumped, sobbing and pressing her hips into him.

" _Please_ , Tom. Please. I just want to cum."

"Is that so, little Mudblood?"

"Stop calling me-"

He thrust back into her, his hands pressing into her back and forcing her against him. She cried out as he grunted, his thrusts hard and quick against her. "Do you not like it?"

"No," she breathed, gripping at the sheets.

"Is that so?" He asked quietly, his thrusts slowing.

"Please don't stop," she begged. "Please, I-"

He pulled out completely, slowly, pushing in at the same agonizing pace. "I think you like it. You know why?"

His arm circled her waist again, fingers isolating her swollen clit. She pressed her face into the pillow.

"Because despite that, I chose you. Despite that," he pressed the face of his ring to her clit and they both moaned, desperate and needy. "I'm sharing forever with you, little witch."

She continued to moan beneath him, his ring circling her clit, her hips wiggling against him, thighs quacking and body shaking and- "Tom, _please_ ," she begged, because it was easier than admitting her was right. "Please let me cum."

Hermione clenched her muscles around him and he grunted, thrusting painfully into her. She cried out just as he said, "Touch yourself," his pace picking up again.

He rubbed at her back, fingers digging into her skin as she moaned into the pillow, her fingers working tirelessly against herself.

"Admit it," Tom demanded.

She cursed. She was almost there she just-

"I love it."

He hummed appreciatively. "You love what? Why?"

"I love when you call me little Mudblood." Despite herself, she felt herself even closer now. He growled, fingers pressing deeper into her sides. "I don't know why."

"Because you're mine."

She came just before he did, crying out and gripping at his bed sheets. He laid down beside her, pulling her against him and pressing his lips to her shoulder. His hand slid over her hip and between her legs, his fingers continuing to draw out her orgasm. She twitched beneath him, body still shaking gently against him.

"My own little monster," he murmured, smiling against her shoulder. " _Mine_."

.

.

She laid awake for hours after he'd fallen asleep.

 _Mine_ , he'd said, and she'd liked it-

She closed her eyes. _His_.

With her mind clear, she realized they were both wrong.

She couldn't be that person.

* * *

 _In theory - (1) Unite us. Bless us. Use our magic as your own ; (2) Make us worthy. Equal. Divine._


	9. xi

**A/N -** _Thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting!_

* * *

 **XI.**

"Hermione, Riddle is waiting outside the the dorm-"

"What?" She questioned, sitting up from where she was laying on one of Gryffindor's common room couches.

"Yeah," Harry rose his brows suggestively, sitting down by her feet. "He wants you to come out and speak to him. He reminded me that he is within his rights as Head Boy to come in."

She groaned. "He wants to talk," she told him, pushing the book she was reading into her bag.

"About what?"

"Magic." She leaned over to kiss his cheek before getting off the couch. "I missed you at dinner, by the way."

"Yeah. I was with Dumbledore."

"Oh," Hermione paused, looking him over. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, you know…just stuff to do with my parents."

"I'm sorry-"

"That wasn't your fault Hermione."

"I know, I just," she sat back down. "We never properly spoke after that. And I let my own issues get in the way of being a friend this semester-"

"But you're happy."

"What?"

He smiled weakly. "You're happier than you've ever been, really. When you're around, you don't have your face in a book –I mean," the both laughed, "aside from just now, but no one else was with you. You're engaged and you want to be here and you aren't pushing your academic agenda-"

"I resent that!" She laughed.

"-down our throats." He shrugged. "If he can do that for you, Ginny is right. It shouldn't matter to us."

She leaned closer and hugged him. "It isn't like that between us. I realized…the other night I realized that I couldn't be what he wants me to be. Who I even thought I was." Hermione stood up shakily. "That's what we have to talk about. Well…that and whatever he has to say to me."

Harry smirked, his eyes catching something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Luna entering to dorm room with Ron.

"Oi," Ron called, "Riddle is waiting for you, 'Mione."

"Magic," Harry said, his eyes meeting hers with a small smile. Luna filled the space beside him.

"Hi Hermione."

"Hi Luna."

"You look like you have a lot on your mind."

"I do, I…I do."

"Sometimes an objective voice isn't all that helpful. It confuses us with what we think we need."

Hermione hesitated. Murmured, "Thanks, Luna." And quickly left the common room.

.

.

"I don't believe in dark magic-"

"Neither do I."

Hermione paused, and he did too, turning to look at her with a curious gaze. "That's right," she whispered after a moment. They started walking again, close enough to touch but pointedly _not_. "Power and intelligence," she said, her tone slightly mocking.

The small smile on his lips caused her chest to tighten.

"Anyone with common sense can understand that there is no such thing as light or dark magic," she continued. "There is only intent and expectation."

"So, if mine is to be in control of this world, by any means necessary," he didn't finish his question, he simply let it hang in air.

Hermione swallowed. "What do you want to do with that control?"

"If I am being honest, I don't care."

She frowned, "That's why you support Grindelwald? That's why you've allowed these boys to exist up under you? You're using them to get what you want and letting their ideas corrupt you."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him look at her. "Seems a bit like our relationship, doesn't it?"

Hermione folded her arms over her chest-

"Are you cold?"

The wind had picked up, but that wasn't it.

"No," she said. "I'm uncomfortable."

"I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

She laughed. She missed the smile he offered her.

"What _did_ you mean to do, Tom?"

"I wanted you to be obsessed with me. I had been watching you for some time, because I'd plan to blackmail you. I'd noticed your will and influence; I wanted to own it. To influence it. I wanted you in the same way I have my band of misfits," the small, amused smile he gave her caused her to blush.

"So can my ideas corrupt you?"

He seemed wholly amused, and Hermione was completely sure that she had no influence over him, but the idea was nice.

And it was stupid, really, because she knew better. She knew that this was impulsive and wrong and that she would regret it, be it in the morning or in a thousand years or a few nights ago, but she found it hard to really _care_ when everything she'd ever wanted –everything she'd never even realized she'd wanted before he'd left her that damned book _-_ was right in front of her.

They stopped walking and turned to face the Great Lake. He looked out over it as she watched him.

"I wanted you to keep like a pet, to use your brain and perhaps," he shrugged. "But, I found that book, and I held on to it for two years before giving it to you, because I couldn't believe that my fate was connected to yours, and when I finally accepted it, I found myself, well, soft. I understood that it wasn't so bad, that if that this was meant to be," he stared at her then, his face angrier than she expected it.

"I can be upset. I can hurt you and force you and make you hate me, but what would be the point? You are incredible, for a Muggleborn. For a witch. I don't believe that I can negatively impact that, but why would I want to?

"So, I accepted, and then I found myself _fearful_ of you, because there is no reason for you to believe our fates are tied. There is no reason for you to be interested in a wizard like me. And yet," he inhaled deeply. "I had to give you the book. It had to be you."

Hermione realized she was frowning and tried to right her face as she said, "I didn't realize you had so many feelings."

Tom began to laugh, which suited him, and she told him so.

"Believe me when I tell you I hadn't realized either. But it is not so bad when it is you."

"You've killed people."

"You've tortured and scarred and let them to live with what you've done."

"I have," she admitted. "I have believed myself in the right when doing so."

Tom shrugged. "I don't necessarily care. But, I do appreciate your morality. It's refreshing."

She laughed. "We are bad for each other."

He seemed confused.

"You are- It's sad really, because you could have been so much, and you allowed yourself to become involved with the wrong people. You owe too many now."

"I told you I don't work for or support Grindelwald."

"Don't you, though?"

He sighed. "We have correspondence. It's academic."

"Of course it is," she said flatly. "I can't be yours, though, Tom. I was never meant to be. Sure, this book…it recognized me as equal to you. You recognized me as equal and I am constantly in awe of you, but this isn't appropriate. I am against the superiority of Purebloods, and all or your friends –you!- are bigots. I am a Muggleborn witch with no interest in giving up that part of myself so that I'll fit societies norms. My heritage is an _incredible_ part of who I am. I plan to fight tooth and nail for equal rights and opportunities.

"I _care_ and you just don't. At least not when it doesn't directly affect you."

He seemed thoughtful for a moment before saying, "I can make what is important to you important to me."

She sighed. "You don't get it. In the dead of night, it's easy to be _everything_ , but we are so different. We are so far apart that it's incredible we've gotten on so well to begin with. I-"

She tugged her hands through her hair, "In less words: we have to stop this. I cannot be the person you want me to be. I thought that I could see and become her because I thought she was powerful and influential and, honestly, I quite liked seeing her next to you. I saw myself," she shook her head to clear it. "I will not be that person. There is too much at stake for me to indulge in something so temporary."

"Temporary?" He questioned, and she wasn't sure if he was amused or annoyed.

"Everything in life is."

He chuckled. "I never pegged you as a quitter."

"That's offensive. I'm removing myself from what has the potential to be a dangerous and self-destructive relationship. I am initiating us going our separate ways, which was always that plan, Tom."

"Have I ever made you fearful of me? Have I done anything to you that would make you believe-"

"You're manipulating me! You are not this kind person you pretend to be when we're alone. I _like_ this person, but I am not stupid, Tom! The moment I give in, you're going to become the person I thought you were. And I won't let myself go through that."

"You've made up your mind about this," he told her.

"This was always the plan. It was your idea to stay out of each other's way. We're better now. We have the world."

"Yes," he told her as they began to walk back toward the castle.

When the silence became too much, she quietly asked, "Can I still come to one of your little gatherings?"

He smirked as though he knew something she didn't, drawing his arm over her shoulder and kissing her temple. "Of course, love."

"Don't call me that," she told him.

He only laughed.

.

.

.

"We usually use the Room of Requirement," Draco told her, oddly relaxed and interestingly friendly. He'd been tasked with keeping track of her for the evening, and didn't appear to have any reservations about it.

Hermione, on the other hand, felt incredible odd and out of place, and they hadn't even joined the other's yet.

His cloaked arm brushed hers as they stalked through the Forbidden Forest. "I think he's trying to amuse you."

"So you all aren't doing anything serious tonight?"

"You never know what you're going to do with Riddle. The other night we researched night blooming flowers for three hours. We've searched through a a bunch of lost stuff in the Room, too."

"Are you kidding?"

"No. I don't 'kid,' Granger."

She pulled a leaf off of a tree as they passed it just for something to do. She supposed that he may still be looking for the cup, and 'the other night' was around the time they'd been attempting to brew a potion that would mimic the effects of unicorn's blood. It been unsuccessful, which they'd expected, but not incredibly so. For whatever reason, she thought it curious he'd included them in the research.

"Have you killed anyone?"

" _Merlin_ , Granger." He stopped walking, and she only got a few steps further until she stopped and turned to him. "What do you think we do? For what reason would we kill anyone?"

"Myrtle died last year-"

"Which was an unfortunate event, but we had nothing to do with that. Remember? It was that freak-show half-giant pet of Dumbledore who turned out to be responsible."

"Ok."

"You don't believe me."

"I know for a fact it wasn't Hagrid, Malfoy. You don't have to lie to me."

He shook his head and started walking again. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Granger. Honestly."

She decided that Draco had no idea who he was working for. "You described the death of a Muggleborn as unfortunate."

He frowned. "Contrary to popular belief, or that of my father, I do not believe that you all should die. I think you need to respect our culture and status-"

"Why?"

"We are superior in this world. Don't start, Granger. Listen. Culturally speaking, you have no idea about what it means to be a wizard –a witch- outside of school. Purebloods are born into this world, this society, and have a basic understanding of wizarding values and expectations long before your lot can even understand how you're different from Muggles. We understand our history and that of other wizarding communities in the same way that you have a superior understanding of Muggle life.

"There is nothing _wrong_ with that. I don't even have a problem with you being a part of this world. My issue with you, in particular with _you_ , is that you don't really care about our values or culture. You arrogantly claim that centuries of carefully crafted and curated life is backwards and regressive.

"And you fail to realize that you cannot apply a Muggle vision to our world. You cannot expect us to be in sync with your old life. You can create whatever subculture you'd like. Many of us encouraged integration in the old days- before they start killing us in the streets and we were forced into hiding.

"There are so many of you and so few of us that your subculture has slowly been becoming the 'norm,'-"

"It's evolution! It's progress. You can't continue to live in, I don't know, 1817, when it's 2016-"

" _You_ can't decide that," he told her calmly. "This isn't your history, your culture."

"You aren't _dying_ , though! Not anymore. You aren't being murdered in a world you expected to thrive in. Can't you see the similarity there?"

Draco touched her shoulder, shocking her so much that she flinched. When their eyes met he said, "Like I said, it's unfortunate. We have to figure out a way to coexist that is mutualistic."

"Supporting Grindelwald isn't the way."

"I never said it was, Granger. Don't confuse me with my father."

She huffed, focusing on tying her hair away from her face –like he'd suggested when he'd come to get her from her dorm- instead of responding. When she saw Tom leaning against a tree ahead of them she turned to Draco and asked, "So why do you act the way that you do? Why don't you put any action behind your words?"

"You lot decided I, _we_ were shitty people when we started here. We don't grow up the way you all do. Our world is very closed. We don't have an opportunity, before age 11, to form our own opinions in the way that Muggleborns and some Half-bloods are able to.

"When we start here, this is our first exposure to other people on a large scale. It's our first opportunity to develop away from our parents or those tasked with watching and guiding us. Everything out of our mouths, we heard other's say. By the time any of us realize we may have been wrong, we've already been overlooked."

He shrugged, "It's a poor excuse, but it's the truth. At least for us Slytherin."

She thought long and hard for a minute –which was ridiculous in itself- before saying, "I'm sorry."

He seemed as shocked as she felt, but he extended his hand, and she shook it on sheer principle.

"We aren't friends," she told him. "We just share a common, well not really interest, but interest."

Draco actually laughed at this, and Hermione tried to smile, but something about his genuine demeanor was off-putting. As they started walking again, he said, "Riddle says the same shit to us."

She wasn't sure how she felt about it.

.

.

.

"I found a dead centaur on the way here," Theodore announced.

Hermione coughed, watching as the small group of boys got riled up.

"We could dissect it," he suggested.

"Oh my god," she murmured to herself. Tom, who was sitting a few feet from her, smirked at her obvious distress and confusion.

"I have always wondered if their heart would look like ours or like a horses," one of the Lestrange brothers announced.

"Have you ever seen a horse heart, Rod?" Draco asked, sliding down to the ground and leaning an elbow on the log she was sitting on. He kept his outstretched legs away from the fire they were sitting around.

"Have _you_?" She questioned.

"Of course. The human and horse hearts are structurally quite similar. Four heart chambers and heart valves-"

"Are you suggesting that we couldn't tell a human heart from a horses?" Rod questioned.

" _Of course_ you could tell the difference. A human heart weighs 8-10 ounces, whereas a horse's heart is a little over 8 pounds. Could you imagine a horse operating with a human's heart? It's too small."

"So you think centaurs have horse hearts?" Tom questioned, sounding genuinely curious.

Hermione broke out in a cold sweat. She'd expected dark spells and cruses and madness. Not _this_.

"I think they have the capacity of a horse heart, and theirs may be slightly larger than a human's. Surely someone has researched it, though. I doubt the rest of the centaurs would just let us dissect their fucking brother or sister."

"Why do you know all of this?" Hermione questioned.

Draco shrugged, but the other brother –Rabastan- said, "His family owns a lot of horses. His mother likes them."

"Don't talk about my mother."

Theo barked out a laugh.

"Imagine if it was a female," Rod suggested.

Hermione decided she'd had enough. "Ok, well. Not that this isn't riveting and educational, actually my ideal type of fun, I should go."

Draco made to get up, but Tom stopped him.

"I'll walk her back. You all can find the fluxweed and meet me at our dorm to start the potion."

They disappeared more quickly than she'd expected. "You all are brewing Polyjuice."

"Yes."

They started the walk back to the castle. "Why?"

"You don't get to ask that. I've allowed you your night with us."

"But you all didn't _do_ anything."

"Sorry to disappoint, Hermione, but this was a very normal night for us."

"You all went over Transfiguration concepts!"

"Step yelling," he hissed, whipping his wand out and glancing around them. "We're thirty minutes outside of the castle."

"You really expect me to believe you all do this every fortnight?"

"I really don't care what you believe, Hermione. You're always so prepared to expect the worse. Would you have preferred we let Grindelwald supporters into the castle? Or left to participate in a raid?

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but _none_ of us are Grindelwald supporters. I told you, he's unreliable at best."

She frowned, allowing silence to fall between them for a few minutes. "So-"

"We work on spells, craft potions, research different ingredients. We practice dueling. Work out war and defense strategies. Consider the best paths for our futures, considering we'll be graduating in just a few months."

"You're all nerds," she laughed, bumping his shoulder. "How _cute_."

He seemed largely unimpressed with her, but he drew his arm over her shoulders again. "What do you think of vampires?"

"You'll lose your magical ability."

"Sure. But, hypothetically," he started, and Hermione lifted her hand to lace her fingers through his. She felt his lips against her hair, "Do you really want this to end?"

"Tom."

"I know. I'm going to continue with my original question. I just…wanted to know how you really felt about us."

"I think we're fire and gasoline."

He hummed thoughtfully, his fingers wrapping more firmly around hers.

"I think you're blinded by the security we've had by starting this in secret. I'm," she searched momentarily for the right word, "impressed with you all after tonight. Truly. But there is too much to be done and not enough time for us to publicly right wrongs and get everything done."

"We could meet in the middle."

She looked up at him as they walked through the forest. When he met her eye, his appeared to be blacker than the night. There was danger in them that she hadn't considered in a long time. Power and darkness she'd grown so accustomed too that she didn't even notice anymore. There was so much he wouldn't hesitate to do, and as he smirked down at her, she realized that he was probably more menacing and unpredictable then anything they'd encounter in the Forbidden Forest.

" _If_ we meet in the middle," she told him lowly, "I'm yours."

His smirk grew into a sly smile that turned her insides into butterflies as he lowered his mouth to the corner of hers. "When," he corrected her, and then proceeded to tell her his theory on being converted to vampire after the creation of horcruxes.

* * *

 **A/N -** _Sorry I'm late I worked all day one day and then I had to complain to the ppl at my eye dr bc they didn't give me transition lenses and then i had to figure out where i'm getting a new tattoo (! ! ! so excited about this one) anyway i wanted to edit this update out but its also kind of weirdly important like...emotionally i guess...ANYWAY we're close to the end now (there are 1-2 more updates after this, i can't remember exactly) and actually i have a few more one shots (both drunk and crack-y) i could post i just have to edit them so we'll see._

 _also sorry if there are a lot of grammar/spelling issues with this one i got sick of rereading it and i don't have a beta so~_


	10. xii

**A/N -** _I couldn't not post this actual derailment I decided to re-edit the end of the fic because I'm a sadist writer :) :) :)_  
 _2/2 for today. Read_ xi _first. Also pls remember that this is a (wild, soap opera of one shot)_

* * *

 **XII.**

"You hurt me," Tom growled.

Hermione, finally fed up with his veiled taunts and accusations, dropped her quill in the spine of her book and looked over at him. "No I didn't. Stop fucking saying that, because I _didn't_ hurt you, Riddle. I _can't_."

"Stop that," he told her, glancing up from his essay with a steely look. As he went back to his work he said, "You don't get to decide that, Granger. You hurt me. You can't decide that you didn't."

She laughing, rolling her eyes, and missed him set his own quill in his inkpot. "Forgive me, my _lord_ ," she went back to her own work, sarcasm heavy in her tone, "for forgetting the fragile state of your feelings during this transition."

"Granger."

" _What_ , Riddle?" She looked back up at him angrily. "What more could you _possibly_ want?"

"The same thing you wanted two months ago. An apology. A genuine one."

She sat in disbelief. He leaned into the table, toward her. Waiting. His eyes shined with anticipation. She leaned back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. "You're serious?"

"It's the least you can do-"

"It's the _least_ I can do, Riddle? After _everything_ I've done –and I'm _doing_ \- for you?"

She laughed again, glancing around as though she expected it all to be a joke. She missed the telling flash of his eyes. "You're a cold, racist, manipulative, lying, cheating prick. You do this. You make me feel bad for something I've done –be it leave a sweater in your room or talk too friendlily with another wizard-, and have never, not once, apologized for belittling and hurting _me_."

"I've not apologized, Granger?"

"I'm not stupid. You wanted my cunt-"

He started at the expletive. She ignored it.

"-you would do and say anything. I would, too."

When he said nothing to correct her, she continued as though he'd never interrupted. "Yet, you want me to apologize for what? For not wanting you to come to a bonfire with me? I wanted _something_ for myself. For making fun of your nose? It does look a bit odd these days. So what?"

She considered what else she'd done. "For making you clarify in what ways you need me? Get _out_ of here, get the _fuck_ out of here –go for a walk, even-, if me wanting to know that I'm _wanted_ caused you pain. I don't care. I can't even remember why I'm did this for you. The least you can do is appreciate me for taking the _time_ -"

"That isn't it."

"Then what is? Tell me. Please. This won't work if you don't. I can't stay if you don't."

He pounded his fist on the table. "And I'm manipulative? I'm the liar and cheater, Hermione?"

She saw the hurt in his eyes. She hated herself for letting it affect her.

"I have always told you exactly what you wanted to know. I have found the answers if I was unsure. I have put in _work_ for this. And I have done nothing but break myself down before you-"

"Bullshit."

He stared blankly at her for what felt like a lifetime. He'd taken his wand from his pocket, and he turned it over in his hand contemplatively. Just before she grabbed her quill to return to her work, he waved his wand, removing what she realized was a glamour.

Hermione gasped. She went rigid. He met her eyes briefly, but it was long enough for him to see her disgust. For her to see his fear.

"-and you have been nothing but cruel. A constant reminder that I am nothing to you. That I wouldn't be here without you. That you could leave us – _this_ ," he corrected, frowning and hesitating. He threw his glamour back up. And then weakly, as though he really didn't want her to know or hear him, added, " _Me_ , Hermione."

She watched him with guarded eyes. He stared back, not pleading or begging. Just staring. She swallowed.

"I can't walk away from this. And you constantly, flippantly, writing me off _hurts_."

"Hurts what, Riddle? Your pride? Your ego?"

He hissed, leaning back in his chair tiredly. Not quite defeated, but hinting toward the fact that she could if she tried. All she could think about was the person behind the glamour. The discolored and bruised skin. The fractured nose. The truly dead eyes. She'd _seen_ that in him before she knew about the glamour. She'd _felt_ his exhaustion and thought nothing of it.

"My feelings."

She was unable to hide her shock. "Excuse me? Your feelings? Riddle," she laughed, tugging her hand through her hair. "Merlin. I nearly believed you."

He seemed as though he couldn't quite believe her, and began packing up his things. "It's hard to believe that you're able to treat me this way after everything. I thought you-" He shook his head. "How many times have we been together, Granger? How many times have I reacted to you coming undone around me?"

"Tom, don't."

"How many times have I asked you to share my bed, and done nothing but hold you? Held your hand when I realized your fear? Have I needed your _comfort_?" He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "When you need me in the middle of the night, I'm there. When you want for anything, I've made a way. Don't you _dare_ make me into the bad guy-"

"Monster," she told him, and he flinched. "That's your word, Tom."

The blank look he gave her hurt more than she caned to admit.

"And, I feel, Hermione. I feel you constantly: cold and unwelcoming. Yet, I am in the wrong?"

"You don't even value yourself," she gestured in a way that told him she was talking about what he'd shown her. "You…how can I trust you? If you can do that to yourself, you can do it to anyone." _To me_.

He blinked. His disbelief was even more obvious. "That's rich."

When he realized that she had nothing left to say, he left.

* * *

 **A/N -** _Thanks for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following._


	11. xiii-xiv

**A/N -** _I want you all to know that I' edited this literally at my desk (at work) bc that's the kind of person I have become._

* * *

 **XIII.**

Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably next to Hermione, angling herself as though there was something she wanted to say, but her face fluctuated between uncertain and annoyed and Hermione feared the absolutely _worst_ when the boys finally got up to go to class and the red-headed witch took her elbow in what she could only describe as a death grip.

"What are you doing with Riddle?"

"Excuse me?"

"What are you doing with Riddle?" Ginny repeated calmly, letting for of Hermione's elbow as they got up from the table.

"Nothing."

"Hermione," Ginny tugged her into an alcove after they'd left the Great Hall. She sighed before saying, "I have been seeing two of his housemates-"

"Gin!"

"I know. It's stupid, but," she shrugged. "That isn't the point. Has Theo really walked in on you all multiple times?"

"Yes."

"Did you really go out with them?"

"How do you know that?"

"Hermione," she fiercely whispered. "He's a _Grindelwald supporter_. He would sooner mock your blood, regardless of any stupidly beautiful thing he's said or done to get whatever he wants from you. _Please_ be smart."

"I thought you supported me."

"When I thought you were being _smart_. But, people walking in on you? Publicly spending time together in un-academic ways? Joining him? That's more than just fucking."

"He and I aren't seeing each other anymore. It's fine."

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't."

" _Obviously._ "

"What are _you_ thinking, then?"

Ginny grinned, but it wasn't for Hermione, which she thought was charming, and almost made her feel bad for asking. "I didn't want to," she told her. "That was the point."

"Actually, I was. I was thinking _a lot_. I thought about it a lot, too. I…I learned a lot with him, Gin. So much. It's as though he understands and remembers everything without even trying, but he doesn't let that stop his curiosity. He wants to know more and more and is never _satisfied_ and I- I- I can really appreciate that. And he isn't as bad as I thought he'd be?

"I really thought he'd be like Draco or Bellatrix but he's, well, he's sweet. And he's gentle. I understand that he wants something from me, but it's not really different from anything I want for myself?"

"So…you're still seeing him."

Hermione felt herself change, disappointment and loneliness settling over her. It'd been two weeks since she'd said anything to him. In a few days they'd leave for holiday and she'd be forced to give _everything_ up.

"Oh," Ginny said suddenly. And then, as though she'd suddenly realized something important, she said, " _Oh_."

"What?"

"You're in love with him."

"That's dangerous," Hermione told her with a dismissive shake of her head.

Ginny grinned, "Just a few weeks ago you asked me if him thinking you were his _equal_ was enough, and now it's dangerous?" There was a teasing quality to her voice that drove Hermione crazy.

She blinked. "He's a monster, Ginny. He…he hates Muggleborns and thinks we have no place in this world. He's alright to me but that's only because he thinks I'm an exception, which is _annoying_. And he doesn't treat people kindly. He has no qualms about hurting someone to get what he wants, either. Like _really_ hurting someone if it means-" Hermione's eyes went wide, realization flooding her.

"What?" Ginny questioned. "What's wrong?"

"If it means getting what he wants," she murmured.

"Ok?"

She half laughed, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "He did it for me."

"What are you talking about?"

The curtain they were hiding behind was suddenly yanked back to reveal Blaise Zabini and Tom Riddle. If Hermione had been paying attention, she would have noticed the way Ginny reacted, her skin flushing and body softening, but instead she found herself staring at Tom, who looked at her as though she was a stranger. Like she didn't _matter_.

She refused to believe him.

It was Blaise who said, "The two of you should be in class right now."

"We're dealing with something…and _anyway_ you all should be, too," Ginny told him, tearing her eyes away from him to look at Tom. "Riddle…you're looking-"

It was Hermione's turn to grip her friend's elbow, pushing her around the Slytherin wizards as she said, "We were just going."

He was looking worse for wear, if she was being honest with herself. And it was so obvious that it was disturbing.

Her hand brushed Tom's as she passed him, their eyes meeting briefly. For a moment, Hermione saw the world reflected in his, dark and handsome and _waiting_ , and for as many time as their eyes had met, she wasn't sure that she'd ever seen herself reflected so clearly.

He smirked.

She felt her heart in her head for the rest of the day.

.

.

.

She crawled into his bed late that night, her face pressing familiarly into the back of his shoulder and arm tightening around his waist. Her fingers drew under his shirt and over his stomach repeatedly.

When he tightened his fingers around hers, hooking them through her knuckles and bringing them to his mouth, she pressed a kiss to his back.

"Tom," Hermione whispered.

He didn't quite hum in response. It was more like a hiss, quick and needy and throatier than it should have been. He was too in control of the sound. With her eyes closed and his breath fanning against her knuckles as he held her hand to his mouth, his tongue tasting her palm in an oddly comforting way, she realized that he was communicating. She realized-

She kissed him again. That was it. There was nothing more. She realized and she understood.

"I am _so_ sorry."

He twitched. It was storming outside his window, and every so often he would shudder at the moment lightening stuck. She tried not to acknowledge it. She knew he wouldn't want her to.

"I was protecting myself, and I hadn't realized I was hurting you in the process."

He rubbed his lip against her knuckles, his tongue quick against her skin.

"I…I know that you said I wouldn't have to worry. I know that it was one of our rules. But, _this_ wasn't in the mix, then. We had no idea that we'd grow so dependent on each other."

He was quiet for so long that she thought he'd fallen asleep.

"You really didn't know?"

It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about their growing affections. "Did you?"

He didn't say anything, and she asked, "Why did you let this happen to yourself?"

"It's the book, Hermione. You don't get the world without sacrifice."

She sat up, attempting to see his face. His room was too dark though, and he wouldn't turn toward her. "But I'm fine, Tom. Shouldn't it be equal?"

He turned to look at her, then, watching he in the same way he always did, blank and waiting. And, it took a moment, but Hermione realized what he was telling her with a mix of awe and disturbance.

She'd been right. But what did he want so bad? Why would he shield _her_ from this?

"You're taking all of the effects. I told you to stop doing _stupid_ things."

"I know your magic, Hermione. You wouldn't have survived this."

She hated to hear him say that, because she considered herself to be quite a powerful witch, but remembered him mentioning that morals and expectation had a lot to do with magic, and where he had _none_ , she had too much.

Hermione reached over and touched his face again, half smiling when he leaned into his touch. "Why do you always underestimate me?"

He chuckled. "I know you're a rash little lioness, but I _know_ you, Hermione."

"Evidently not, though. Because they last thing I would want is for someone to go through _this_ for me."

"It looks worse than it is."

"I doubt that. And, anyway, you have a fractured soul. What we did, Tom, it was meant to be done with someone who has a full one, not someone working with a disability- don't look at me that way. I want you to stop whatever it is you're doing to keep the effects from me. I can take it."

He frowned before plainly saying, "Ok."

She nodded. "Right, well," Hermione moved to get off of his bed, but he said, "Wait," and she realized that for whatever reason, she would have waited forever.

He opened his arms to her.

"I want you to stay," he told her.

She shouldn't have wanted the same thing.

She laid back down, her body fitting perfectly against his.

.

.

.

"So," Ginny grinned. "You and Riddle."

"Yeah," Hermione smiled, "don't mention it."

She sat down next to her on the wall, "The entire school knows, Hermione. But, we don't have to talk about it you don't want to."

"I like having something that is wholly mine. Be it a mistake or the best thing I've ever done -because at any given moment, it feels like both-, this is mine. _Ours_. No one can take it from us and it's weird because...everything is temporary. I know that. But this feels like it could go on forever."

"I know what you mean."

She reached over to wrap her hand around Ginny's, and considered telling her that she didn't know what she meant for a number of likely illegal reasons, but ultimately decided against it. "And that's dangerous. People can lose themselves in situations like this. It's like...all or nothing with us. But, I'd rather have _everything_ -his ideals and my issues and whatever else- then go back to the loneliness I felt before."

They sat in silence for some time before Hermione tightened her grip on Ginny's hand and asked, "So...who is it?"

"Oh," she laughed nervously. "I've never said it out loud. It's...like you said, it's been ours all year. It's going to be weird being in the castle without them. Without you all, too."

"Everything that's meant to be always finds a way."

"Have you been talking to Luna?"

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "After exams, we had a double date with she and Harry. It was...weird, to say the least."

"She's really helped him this year."

"I know."

"It's Blaise and Theo."

"Oh my god!"

Ginny covered her face with her hands. "I know. I know."

They shared a smile.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, looking up to see Tom and Theo coming their way. Theo's face betrayed nothing when he saw Ginny, but Ginny gave a little squeak that caused Hermione to laugh. "Lucky you."

.

.

.

"You should move in."

Hermione's brows rose. "With you? Into the house you killed your father in?"

He gave her a flat look, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I bought a flat in Knockturn Alley."

Her eyes widened. "So you want me to _die_?"

"Don't be dramatic, Hermione. Come and see it at least. You'll like it."

She rubbed her face tiredly before grabbing a piece of toast. "My parents would kill me if I moved in with you. They think you're dangerous."

He chuckled. "And you're what, an innocent lamb?"

"I'll see the flat," she told him. "But I can't promise that I'll move in with you."

Tom frowned, setting down his fork and briefly studying her. "Why?"

"I like being able to go home and clear my head. Remember that I'm human and kind and tolerant of all life."

"That's your problem, love. Not every life is worth tolerating."

"I know." She propped her elbow on the table and put her jaw in her hand as she smirked at him. "Evil, lecherous, vindictive people. Racists. Murderers. Rapists. They all deserve to die."

"Watch yourself," he told her, absolutely unamused. "I'll meet you for your lunch break to show you, okay? You'll love it."

"Oh. I'll love it now?"

He only smirked at her.

 **XIV.**

"This is a mistake."

He set the chalice down, glancing at her as though he wasn't quite sure why she was there. There was a spot of blood on her cheek where he'd touched her after killing the old lady.

"I'm not going to tell anyone about anything we've done. It's meant so much to me," her voice came out light and breathy, and she cursed herself, and smiled at her so handsomely that she nearly forgot what she was going to say. "You've opened my eyes to so much."

"Is that so, my love?" He questioned, refocusing on Hufflepuff's cup. Before she could answer, he hummed appreciatively. "You have opened mine to more than I care to admit as well."

"I don't think we should see each other anymore, though, Tom. It's…it's risky. I want _be_ somebody. I can't have you –a _criminal_ \- as my boyfriend."

He was frowning as her again, obviously not truly listening. He tapped his wand repeatedly against his thigh. "How long before sunset?"

"Five minutes."

"I'm not a criminal."

"You just murdered a hundred-some year-old lady for a _cup_ , Tom."

"That you found. And you got us in to her house. You watched."

"I didn't think you'd _kill_ her."

His brows rose. "Did you think I'd kill you, my love?"

"Well, no."

He smiled at her again, softly this time. "You look so pretty in this light."

She hated him.

"You will be Minister, my love, if that's what you really want. And I will be immortal. We will both be happy. Together."

"Tom-"

"You get in these moods where you think we're better apart-"

"-Because I don't want to change you-"

"-Don't you?" He questioned, his tone genuinely curious. He repositioned the cup as the light shifted.

"There is plenty I wish you'd want to change for yourself, Tom. But I don't want it to happen for me. I...I like that we challenge each other morally."

He frowned at her. "I think it wastes time. I wish you'd just kill someone for once. It's incredible. Your whole world will change."

"I'll take your word for it."

As though they'd never shifted the conversation, he said, "But, I've always known we'd be better together. I've always known there was nothing more for us than each other. Our…earthly desires only exist to distract us from that. But we are successful in that, too."

She tilted her head. "Under four minutes. Do you really think it's more important that we are together?"

"Yes."

"So you would stop this? The murder, I mean."

"Oh. No. I find that fun. And if you relaxed enough, you would too, my love. You already love torture."

"I wish you'd stop bringing that up."

"I love thinking about it. I love you, too, my little monster."

She groaned. "I'm trying to break up with you."

"I know. And I'm trying to get you to realize.

"Listen, are you going to stay for this? I've never had a live person around during. I don't know how your presence will affect the bond."

"In theory, your soul would prefer a being similar to the one it's leaving to transfer to. It is less painful that way. More dangerous as well. Considering living beings die."

He seemed surprised.

"A _normal_ job gets you into the Department of Mysteries."

"Are you volunteering, though? Imagine," he seemed amused, "you: a vampire horcrux. Me, an immortal wizard. You will never want for anything again, my love."

She gave him a flat look as she passed him. He leaned in and kissed her.

"The vampire part is negotiable. So long as you're a horcrux."

"How long have you been planning that?"

"The horcrux part is very new. The vampire part," he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his dark eyes all over her face. "Have you ever watched one of them feed? It's inspiring."

"If by inspiring you mean _gross_ and _a mess_."

"And they are always hungry for something more after-"

"Oh, so what you really want is for my sexual desire to match yours."

He didn't seem to hear her. His fingers stroked down her neck, thumb pressing familiarly into the swell of her throat. "I have always imagined you covered in someone else's blood as we fucked" -she hated herself, because as soon as he spoke the words, her breath caught in her throat; he smirked- "And you take some of mine." He chuckled. His eyes met hers.

"My sweet little lion," he murmured. "So beautiful."

"You're delusional, Tom."

His nose brushed hers. "Please be home when I get there."

"Don't do this."

He smirked. Kissed her fingers. "Marry me."

She felt her heart in her head and her head in her stomach. Everything was, for the first time since they'd left Hogwarts two years ago, unreal. _Perfect._

He kissed her fingers again. Worked his second horcrux off of his finger. Offered it to her. "This is everything. We either have each other, or we have nothing."

"Luna said what we think we want distracts us from what we need."

"I need you."

She closed her eyes. She couldn't help the smile on her lips. His tongue swiped them. Swiped the blood off her cheek.

"Marry me."

Their eyes met, and she'd be lying if she said there wasn't everything she'd ever wanted in his.

"Thirty seconds," she told him. She leaned in. Waited a moment before she pressed her lips to his. "I love you."

She took the ring and went home.

* * *

 **A/N -** _I was going to rewrite and kill him but I figured what the hell they can get married it's fine that's what drunk me wanted :'D_

 _Thanks so much for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting_. _I really appreciate seeing and hearing that you all love the story!_


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